


Walking Home

by Leni



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 04:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8130998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni/pseuds/Leni
Summary: Gold was the last person Belle would expect to invade her personal space. He was a gentleman, never taking advantage even if it was handed to him on a silver platter. And yet, that was distinctly his pale hand and long fingers palming her person....





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for simplythedarkone. Prompt: "Why is your hand on my ass?"

Belle had to look down to confirm what her body was telling her. Gold was the last person she would expect to invade her personal space. He was a gentleman, never taking advantage even if it was handed to him on a silver platter. And yet, that was distinctly his pale hand and long fingers palming her person. 

Forced to make a quick decision, Belle chose not to jump up and screech in outrage. While unexpected, it wasn't an unwelcome feeling. She certainly had sent enough hints that, while content with their easy friendship, she would like to explore taking their relationship a step further.

But Gold was all about baby steps, always taking careful consideration of each decision he took.

This was _not_ his usual behavior.

"Ohmigod. You're drunk!"

He chuckled. "I seem to remember we went drink for drink tonight," he reminded her.

Belle peered at him. But he gave no sign that he was teasing her. Either he was oblivious - and this was Gold, who caught onto every involuntary twitch and blink to read a person, and then gleefully took advantage of the knowledge - or his wit was impaired. "And apparently you're a lightweight," she told him, deciding to allow the touch while it lasted.

He wasn't grabbing her like her ex boyfriend had done, after all. This was not a public claim of possession, but rather a nice caress that made her thoughts drift back again to wondering how he would behave with less clothes between them.

Meanwhile Gold was frowning in confusion. "No. Why would you--?" That would have been followed with a signature twirl of his hand. Except he froze instead. Ah, so he had finally noticed that his hand had been stroking across the rear of her jeans. He snatched it away so fast, Belle heard the hiss of air around it.

“Why would I....?” she said sweetly.

"I'm so sorry!"

Gold, blushing. Belle didn't think anyone in town had ever been privy to the event. "So your hand just... slipped?"

"No!" He cringed. "Yes?"

Despite herself, Belle was amused. "Or maybe you _are_ a lightweight."

"Let's go with that," she heard him mutter. 

Belle bit her lower lip to contain a giggle, then marched forward, prompting Gold to resume their walk to her home.

The night was warm. Which made the fifteen-minute walk to her apartment and the Cadillac he'd left parked outside a comfortable time to wrap up their time together. They hadn't planned to go for drinks tonight, but she had just gotten a raise and was in the mood to celebrate. 

The streets of Storybrooke were empty after most of the businesses closed, and now, after midnight and they the last patrons who'd left the Rabbit Hole on a Wednesday night, there wasn't another soul to comment on the strange sight of the local pawnbroker and the young librarian.

Belle decided she liked the solitude.

If her efforts went to waste, nobody would see her fail.

"It's not fair, though," Belle started, smiling to show that she wasn't angry. When he relaxed, she grabbed onto his arm, threading her own through it. "I mean, you get to drunk-grope me, when we haven't even drunk-kissed yet."

His eyes widened comically. "I wasn't---! I'm _really_ sorry."

Belle didn't let him go. Instead she pulled him closer and smirked. "Just thinking we should even things out, that's all."

Gold blinked, searching her gaze. When their eyes met, he licked his lips as if lost for words. "But," he said at last, very slowly, "you're not drunk."

"Nope," Belle said cheerily. "Is that your only protest?"

He studied her for a long moment. His brown eyes sparked with something Belle wanted to call hope, and they blazed into something closer to triumph at whatever he found in her expression. "Belle?" he asked softly.

Instead of an answer, Belle closed the space between them even further.

He brought the two of them to a halt, and right where they stood, in the middle of the street, bent carefully to brush his lips against hers. He was grinning when he straightened, and so was she. "And to answer your question, my dear," he said. "No, I don't have any protest at all."

The End  
25/09/16


End file.
